


End of a day.

by smartforholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Greg Lestrade, Crying Mycroft Holmes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mystrade Monday Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartforholmes/pseuds/smartforholmes
Summary: Mycroft is just so exhausted, luckily Greg refuses to leave him alone.Based on Mystrade Monday prompt #16 “Please stay with me”.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	End of a day.

“Morning,” Gregory announced himself as he entered through the doors of Mycroft Holmes’ office, smiling brightly.

Mycroft looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Detective Chief Inspector, to what do I owe the pleasure for your visit?”

“I thought we were on a ‘Greg’ term already, didn't we?”

“My apologies,” Mycroft whispered, rubbing his eyes with his hand, clearly tired. “I seem to forget the closeness of our association.”

“Yeah, right,” The DCI murmured, clearing his throat shortly after. “Anthea called me, y’know?” Gregory declared, walking calmly towards Mycroft's desk, cautious about the look on his friend’s face.

“Of course she did, let me guess, ‘Mr. Holmes is working his ass off again’.” Lestrade bit his lip nervously, witnessing the anger flowing through Mycroft's expression. “Anthea must feel like she's doing something right, apparently.”

“Every morning I get an update from her because she worries about you! How can you get upset over that?” Gregory yelled in irritation, knackered himself by the aggravating week he had been through. “Mycroft, listen to me, I know working endlessly eases the weight of it but it does more damage than good.”

“How could you know? Do you have any idea how different our jobs are, Lestrade?” Mycroft spat back, getting up abruptly from his chair. “Do not expect me to act like a teenager in love just because you show me tenderness.”

Gregory analyzed Mycroft's body language, recognizing then how close the elder Holmes was from collapsing. “I just want you to be okay, Mycroft.” The silver-haired men confessed, stepping closer.

“And every morning I wake up wanting to be dead!” Mycroft exploded, tears streaming freely down his face. “But I also wonder how it would be like to be loved at least for once in my disgusting life!”

Gregory stayed in his place, digesting Mycroft’s words. “No, look My, you're exhausted, and confessing gibberish, you wouldn't actually imply that,” At this, the government official snorted.

“You know _shit_ about me, Inspector,” Mycroft grimaced, the air leaving his lungs for a short moment. “And after what you've witnessed today, I daresay you will never have the chance to do so.”

It took the turmoil a second to knock Mycroft out, his knees giving away and dropping roughly to the floor. Breathing with difficulty, Mycroft covered his ears, hoping he could suppress the voices in his head.

“Mycroft!” Gregory, concerned, rushed to his side, only to be stopped by Mycroft's hand.

“Don’t... Just leave, please...” The younger man whispered, covering his eyes with his hands, vetoed. “You don't deserve the mess I am.”

Disbelieved, Greg descended next to Mycroft, his hand landing on the taller man's shoulder. There were no words that could reassure the elder Holmes, so Lestrade made the verdict to just extend his presence as a state of mind to his friend; a reminder of no longer loneliness.

The DCI saw more tears forming in Mycroft's pale blue eyes, and how his face twisted in pure misery and grief, the strong façade he always showed shattered on the floor.

After the first lament got out Mycroft's mouth, Gregory collected him into his strong and muscular arms, the auburn's forehead pressed against his neck, his tears soaking up the thick winter coat he was wearing.

“I’m sorry... God, don't leave... Please don't leave me alone...” Mycroft's hands desperately moved around Gregory's torso, clinging to him, begging him to stay.

Lestrade sighed, tightening his hold. “Don’t worry about it, it's alright, calm down darlin’,”

Mycroft's arms emigrated to his waist, holding onto it for balance; the tremble in his hands made him struggle, pushing him to hold onto for dear life to Gregory's toned body. The doors to the office cracked open, and soon enough Greg heard steps moving towards the back of Mycroft's desk, the disturbed face of Anthea emerged in front of him, frozen not far away from them.

With his left-hand stroking Mycroft's head, Lestrade delivered a tiny smile to Anthea, knowing adequately how worried she was due to the condition of her boss.

Acknowledging that perhaps she should give both men privacy the PA returned the smile and departed from the location, feeling relieved Mycroft would receive the needed affection he yearned for.

His attention goes back to Mycroft as sobs wreck his slimmer form, making him shiver and whimper in pure despair, left-hand grasping the front of Greg's jacket whilst his right gripped his back; desperately struggling to not fall into a million pieces.

“I’m tired, I'm so fucking tired of everything...” Mycroft moaned, and Gregory felt the shivers intensifying. “I-I just... I just want everything to stop,” Greg's heart broke ad the words came out of the younger man’s mouth.

"I know," Gregory murmured, hands comforting as vastly as possible. "I'm right here, My. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere." The DCI promised as he pressed a chaste kiss against Mycroft's forehead.

Just then, a small thunder caused the lights to go off, darkening the vast office and obscuring Greg's view of Mycroft's expression. The noise frightened the elder Holmes, and he snuggled closer to Lestrade's warm chest, melting onto the warmth the man provided.

They laid there for what felt like hours, none of them pronouncing a word, only focusing on find comfort with each other's presence. At one point, Greg felt Mycroft's body start to go limp, his former tense hands slipping down unconsciously.

"Gregory..." Mycroft mumbled, voice threatening to break again. "Please stay with m-me, p-please..." At the sight of Mycroft so broken, Greg smiled down at him lovingly.

“Always, My,” Gregory whispered as he pressed a soft kiss against Mycroft's lips, caressing his cheek. “Always.”

The government official glanced at the DCI, eyelids dropping. “Thank you...” His voice came out defenseless, and with a final sigh, his head fell into the center of Greg's chest.

Greg would be faking it if he protested against Mycroft's limp form relying on his torso.

Because he did not care. No. Not at all.

He stroked the ginger –due to the humid– curls lovingly. A sigh of his own escaping from his dry lips, as the thought of how much has Mycroft been through passed the dark alleys of his sanity. The tears he had seen and the most probable ones to come showed him the upcoming breakdown, the foreseeing torment of emotions the elder Holmes will go through.

But as he settled the younger man more comfortable, laying him across his lap, his head now laying against his left shoulder, Greg promised to the silence in the room to be there for him, to guard him when the world became too much, and if Mycroft permitted him, stay by his side forever.

Unable to deny his feelings anymore, Lestrade could just press his back closer to the concrete wall, holding Mycroft in his arms refusing to move an inch.

Mycroft whined in his sleep, face wrenching and hands searching for Greg's. "G-Gregory-" He wailed, trying to hide in Lestrade's coat. "Greg..."

"Hush, sweetheart." Gregory shushed him, lips pressed to the soft ginger hair once more. "I got you, everything's okay." He held his hand, massaging his knuckles with his thumb.

His tone is enough to lull Mycroft back to deep sleep, left hand giving a barely perceptible squeeze, knowing he had found his comfort at the end of a tiring day.


End file.
